


Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam

by fadedink



Category: Priest (2011)
Genre: Gen, Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/pseuds/fadedink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chosen by the Holy Spirit, anointed in the beautiful light of His grace, safe in the infinite nature of His mercy.</p><p>Then came Sola Mira.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebecca_selene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebecca_selene/gifts).



> Massive thanks to Brenda for ripping the first draft apart and then helping me put it back together. I'm sure I frustrated the hell out of her. :)

_This is what is known: there has always been man. And there have always been vampires._

I was ten when the Clergy came for me. I had the spark, they said, the special abilities that could translate into the skills, the talents necessary to kill vampires. It was an honor to be chosen.

In those days, it was a dream come true, prayed for at bed-time each night.

I had a name then. Michael. I was named for the Archangel - the Angel of Death - in the hopes that he would protect his namesake. In those dangerous times, mothers grasped at any straw to give their children an edge.

My mother was no different, even though we lived in City Two, protected by high, strong walls. Protected by the Priests. But always, there was the threat of the vampires, lurking at the edge of thought, the edge of awareness. So my mother named me Michael and prayed for me to be safe.

Then the Clergy came, and my safety was no longer assured. But being chosen was an honor.

It was an honor to sacrifice an unknown future for the good of the Church and of God.

It was an honor to give up everything I knew, to leave it all behind, to become a Priest. A warrior for God. A killer of vampires, cleansing the earth in His name.

The Clergy stripped me of my name, my identity, all that I was. I was shapeless, faceless. Ready to be reborn. Ready to join my new family, my new brothers and sisters, all of us dedicated to the Church.

Now, I was baptized anew in the glory of God, His servant, His warrior. Now, I was nameless, formless, existing only to be reshaped and reforged in His image. His weapon, His killer.

A Priest.

 

 _They say Priests wield the Hand of God._

The Priest training was brutal. Physical exercises - strength, cardio, endurance - were first, strengthening bone and building muscle, increasing our gifts of natural speed and flexibility. Then hand to hand combat, one acolyte against another as we tested ourselves in hard-fought bouts of wrestling, ju jitsu, and so many others until each of us had developed our own style. Then weapons last - blades, whips, axes, morning stars, crossbows - as we were taught to use each as an extension of ourselves.

The training went from sunrise to sunset, never ceasing. I remember collapsing in my bed at night, muscles screaming in agony, sobs muffled by the thin pillow I'd been given, knowing it would all be repeated in a few, short hours.

Each movement was practiced until it could be done without thought or hesitation. Muscle memory burned into us until our bodies could react before our minds even registered a hint of a threat. Our moves had to be flawless, perfect, all for the greater glory of God and the Church when we killed.

Study of the Scriptures was also part of the training, reserved for the dark hours of the morning before breakfast. Reserved for the winter months, when the bitter cold kept us locked inside as winds howled and snow piled up around the buildings. Scripture came easy for me.

My mother made sure I was well-educated in the sacrament, reading the Bible with me until I could quote it from memory, any book, any verse. My favorite passages were the ones that spoke of battle, of victory in God's name, of the Church's inevitable triumph over the hordes of vampires and their Queen.

The day came, as it came for each candidate, when the Clergy took me from the training arena, dressed me in robes, and marked me.

A tattoo of a cross down the bridge of my nose. A visible sign of what I had become.

A Priest of the Church. A Warrior for God. Shock troops of the Clergy.

But the one thing we were never allowed to forget is that Priests are shields for mankind, the last line of defense against the creatures of the night that shriek for his blood. Night after night, we laid everything on the line so the humans might see another day.

Our lives for theirs, sacrificed so they may carry on for the future.

It was an honor.

For the greater glory of God. For that, we would sacrifice anything, everything.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

Armed and clothed, rosary in hand, I was turned loose on the howling hordes. The war had been raging for decades by then, and I was just one more cog in the machine.

And that machine was my new family. My brothers and sisters, Priests and Priestesses all, standing shoulder to shoulder. Siblings in arms. We were a well-honed weapon, lethal and precise. I guarded their backs, and they guarded mine. We were closer than blood could have ever bound us.

My first battle was a blur of movement and emotion. All I remember is being scared I would fail God and my brothers and sisters. My _family_. I wished only to make them - to make Him - proud. To stand side by side with them, to triumph.

I have no memory of my body moving, of fighting. I have only memories of screams and blood, a vivid kaleidoscope, a stained glass of shattered images and smells. The vampire corpses piled at my feet were proof of the effectiveness of training combined with talent.

Baptism by blood and fire.

A decade passed. Two. Still the war raged on, with no end in sight.

Each battle improved our skills until we were unstoppable. With God on our side, we were _invincible_. The Church praised us after each victory, heaping accolades on us that would have suffocated lesser men under the weight of so much reward.

But Priests were above such petty, corporeal rewards. We were in a class far beyond what normal man could have ever dreamt of achieving. And each victory only cemented what we already knew - we were blessed. Chosen by the Holy Spirit, anointed in the beautiful light of His grace, safe in the infinite nature of His mercy.

Then came Sola Mira.

 

 _I have seen the soul of the vampire, and let me tell you, it is far more pure than that of any man._

I was captured, carried to the depths of the vampire hive, far from the light, down into darkness where only nightmares move. Tortured, beaten, bled white, I prayed to God to end it quickly, to release me from my suffering, save me from being infected.

And God - _God_ \- turned a deaf ear to my prayers.

Then the queen, the very creature we'd been sent to kill, saved me from the creatures she'd created.

There is a thin, fine line between life and death. The length of a single heartbeat, a shallow breath. I crossed that line in the depths of Sola Mira, cradled in the Queen's arms. I fell into blackness and found...

Nothing.

There was no God, no salvation, only blackness and a silence so loud it deafened me.

A single heartbeat, a shallow breath. An eternity.

I floated in that blinding darkness, in that screaming silence, and realized the faith of the Church was a lie. My whole life, sacrificed for their glory, was a lie.

It was _all_ a lie.

Bereft of my faith, of all I had been taught was true, there was a void in me. I filled that void with rage, burning and sharp, and embraced it.

Then the Queen's voice called me back, pulled me from the abyss with her song, crooned low into my ear. I held to that, to her. My savior, my dark angel of mercy. I became a new creature that had never yet walked the face of the world. A human vampire, the first - the only - of my kind.

Never before had she done this, not once in her centuries of life, not once with all the humans taken captive. And as her blood worked in me, changing me, bringing my talents and skills to the ultimate peak, I knew.

The Queen - _my_ Queen - was lonely. She was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of her children, yet there was no one who knew her, who knew her mind. No one who could see her vision of glory and appreciate it.

No one to lead her creations up from the depths of the earth, the dark recesses humans called Hell without truly knowing how wrong they were, for Hell is beautiful in all its dark righteousness. No one to restore her children to their rightful places in the world.

Not a single one to be her equal, her partner. Her warrior.

And now she had me.

She rebuilt my shattered body, my strength. I was blessed with new life, new strength, and new abilities, and she demanded nothing in return. Asked nothing more than I was willing to give.

No orders. No demands.

No sacrifice.

For that alone, that one simple freedom to choose, I would give everything.

It was an honor.

 

 _I am the bringer of the tide; I am the wave that will wash clean this unclean world._

My Queen has bred an army of thousands to scour the face of the earth. I stand at its head, her General.

 _Her_ Priest.

For the greater glory of God, as _she_ is my God now. She is my light and my hope and my salvation.

I have recovered from the burns, from the wounds taken in the fight with my brother atop the train. I survive. I live.

And my army - her army - thrives. More are born every night, hungry for blood, for vengeance.

For _justice_.

Only a fraction was killed on the train between Jericho and the Cities. A small sacrifice to draw the Priests out, to discover how weak they have become since the war ended. Their own Clergy has denied them, reduced them to a shell of their former selves.

How are the mighty fallen.

They cannot stand against our might.

They will not.

 

 _Your faith has failed you. What good is faith if it's a lie?_

Their cities will burn, be lain to waste. Their children will serve us.

Burn them all. Let their God sort them out, if he will.

I doubt it.

The vampires will reclaim what once was theirs, and I will walk through the dust and ashes of blood-stained streets, conducting a symphony of sweet screams and piercing cries.

And their Monsignor will kneel at my feet, groveling as he begs for his life, begs for mercy.

There will be none. I _have_ none.

It was all sacrificed in the name of _their_ Church and _their_ God.

Priest and Priestess will join me. Brother and sister, still. Always. Family. _Mine_.

My Queen will change their lives, save their lives, as she saved mine. And they will see how the Clergy lied, how the Clergy used them.

How there is no God.

Their faith will crumble.

Then I will teach them the truth.

It will be an honor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for this prompt! When I read your request, the idea took hold and wouldn't let go. After watching the film, I really wanted to know more about Black Hat and felt they didn't delve into him nearly enough. Thank you for allowing me to get inside his head. I hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
